


Sugar Plum Dreams

by ritsuko



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Wishes, Dreams, M/M, Shmoop, The Nutcracker, basically the fluffiest full I could fluff, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritsuko/pseuds/ritsuko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk never had any reason to care about Christmas. </p><p>Based off of The Nutcracker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar Plum Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2013 K/S Advent Calendar, day 12  
> beta'd by plude  
> arts (coming soon!) by captkirksnipples
> 
> A HUGE THANK YOU to plude! Without you I don't know that I could have finished this. Thanks for the help and inspiration! <3

Christmas has never been an important holiday. There are times that Jim can remember when he was a child that he used to get excited, when he believed in reindeer and Santa Claus and magic. After all, with unexplored galaxies out there in the nighttime sky anything seemed possible.

Little by little each December wore him down. Too many holidays passed with his mother absent while he was shoved in the care of one of her many boyfriends or a disinterested family member started to tear each hope of a real and true Christmas apart.

One year he painstakingly made cookies for hour and arranged them perfectly on a plate with burnt fingertips; he fidgeted in bed all night as he knew that his dreams would come true and that a merry man in red would bring his mother home for Christmas. In the morning all he found was his mother's boyfriend snoring away with snicker doodle crumbs covering his plaid work shirt.

No, nothing on Earth could make young James Kirk feel special or wanted or loved, so he looked to the stars…

…and waited.

*****

Many years later the 25th of December is the last thing on Captain Kirk's mind, especially when he is beaming down to a Class M planet. Yet he strangely feels like a child opening a present meant especially for him. 

Bones is fussing over him, as he normally does, but Jim is barely listening. ". . . not right for you to go down there without me, or Spock for Christ sakes. Every time you get one of these damn fool ideas in your head you just do whatever you want and I'm sick of it-"

"C'mon Bones, the routine scan showed nothing out of the ordinary. Barely any life forms at all. It’s probably full of deer and cute little birdies." Jim laughs, brushing off the doctor's concern as usual. 

The older man just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, cute little alien birdies… With teeth! …that are twelve feet tall and have fangs!"

Jim opens his mouth to protest, but is beaten to the punch by a neutral, even voice, "That is merely speculation, doctor, but it would be far more wise to enforce a little caution upon this surface mission." Spock appears behind McCoy, and Jim beams broadly at the other man. Although he would never admit it, Jim feels a happiness inside at the Vulcan's concern, as well veiled as it is. 

Still, he cannot let either man ruin his fun. Exploration is the name of the game, and he loves playing it. He relishes being the first planet side and experiencing all of the new things. "C'mon you guys," he grins from ear to ear, "What's the worst that could happen?"

*****

"Commander Spock, come in Spock!" Jim yells into his communicator, but the interference on the planet's surface hasn't let a single message through, at least not as far as he can tell. 

Haynes, Burton, O'Reilly, and Ikari, all down; it was insane, all of them one minute fine, and the next asleep. It seems like no ordinary sleep, more like a coma. The only thing that each member of the away party has in common is a happy grin across each of their features.

Jim continues to try and tune his communicator to the correct frequency but receives nothing. There is only dead air and the strange forest of spotted red leaves around him as iridescent flowers sway gently in a light breeze. The air is eerily quiet; none of the life forms that had been evident under prior scans have been spotted. Jim sweats despite the cool air on his brow.

Suddenly, he stiffens, as he realizes that the forest is not so silent after all. A strange tinkling of bells can be heard in the distance, but from which direction he isn't sure. Every time he thinks that he has pinpointed the direction, it seems like the noise comes from somewhere else. As stealthily as possible, he tries to make for the direction he thinks the source…

…and runs straight into one of the iridescent plants. It explodes into glittery dust around his face, causing him to sneeze. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around himself. The air seems cleaner, crisper, and smelled something of peppermint. The dust settling around him is slightly reminiscent of snowfall. He barely notices the communicator slipping from his grasp. . . no more than he notices sinking to the glimmering ground and his eyes slipping shut.

*****

"Jim. Jim, wake up."

The baritone cuts through his senses, but it's a voice that he's never heard before. The blonde's eyes flutter open in confusion to the face he's seen many times, but only in pictures. His gaze focuses on blue eyes, blonde hair, and a dashing smile, one often mirrored in his own features. It can't be, but the other man puts an arm around him, and he realizes he's looking up, and is much smaller.

The house around him is full of lights and music and laughter that is ebbing away slowly, a party dying down. It's confusing; all of his thoughts are in a jumble. He has to get back to the Enterprise, back to his men.

"You forgot about your present, son." George Kirk beams down at him, and the words hit him like a sledge hammer. Just the being in the presence of his father, even in what must be a dream is almost too much. He reaches out with small hands to grasp the box clumsily. Big blue eyes stare up at the other man as everything else is nearly forgotten. His father laughs, a sound that has been reflected in his own voice time and time again. "Go on, open it."

Mesmerized by his father, he looks back down and slowly pulls the giant red ribbon from the green box, and lifts the lid. Jim almost laughs aloud with delight.

He has always seen the stereotypical nutcrackers in advertisements and shopping areas, mustachioed and in old fashioned military uniform, but never before has he seen one quite like this. The wooden doll is dressed in a sky blue suit jacket with a mandarin collar and bedecked with medals on the chest, rhinestones that twinkle merrily in the light. His pants are charcoal, boots black. But the face of the nutcracker is stoic, eyes dark, and hair rather silly, like a bowl cut. But Jim likes the pointy ears that the doll has. They make him look like an elf, or some kind of. . .

There's a memory, but Jim can't remember.

He hugs his father and thanks him, and feels lighter than he ever has, safer in those arms and more wanted than he can ever remember. The evening passes in a whirlwind. There are so many people at the party, music and dancing and laughter that it’s hard to keep a smile from his face. He watches his mother and father dancing, smiling and young and in love. This is the feeling that he's always wanted, a feeling of home and happiness. 

As the party winds down, he is ushered off to bed, tucked in and kissed on his forehead. 

Jim's eyelids feel droopy, and he is about to fall asleep, when he realizes that his nutcracker is missing. He sits upright in bed, sleep thwarted for the moment. He must have left him downstairs, and he knows that he should stay in bed . . . but he wants Spock. Jim quirks his head to the side in confusion. Spock? Never once during the evening had he thought up a name for the doll, but now, the name sounds perfect for the pointy eared nutcracker. Silently he creeps from the bed and dons his slippers, determined in his mission to rescue his new friend.

The house seems a whole lot bigger and scarier as he creeps down the stairs back into the living room, but the soft glow of the Christmas tree beyond still illuminates his way. As he reaches the landing, he hears a scuffling in the other room and he pauses. His parents? Shaking his head, Jim makes his way to the doorway and peeks in, gasping.

A tall ominous looking man in black with hair like obsidian and eyes like a storm stands in the middle of the room. But the strangest things about the man are the ears and tail he sports. He looks like a giant mouse. . . no, a rat. A crown sits perfectly on the figure’s head between the odd looking ears. Jim doesn't know whether to laugh at how ridiculous the man looks, or to be frightened. Then he realizes what the man is standing over.

His nutcracker, his Spock, is on the ground, no longer a doll, but a real live person. In horror, he watches as the rat king brings his boot down upon the man, who cringes in pain. The boot comes down again and again, until Jim can stand no more. 

A slipper flies through the air, smacking into the side of the dark haired man's face. Those dark eyes rise to burn into his own, filling him with a palpable sense of dread and fear. With a regal air, the dark king strides slowly towards him, one measured step at a time, as look of cold fury passes between them. Jim swallows as he feels insides turning to ice. He wants to cry out for his mother and father, but finds himself unable to. Deep inside, there is an ominous feeling, like he has seen this man before, somewhere, in another time, somewhere glowing and beautiful and just as much of a home as the house he is standing in.

When the king is nearly upon him, Spock appears behind the monster, grabbing the base of the king's neck in a way that makes him snarl. The grip holds strong, and slowly the rat sinks to the floor, defeated. Spock gazes at up at Jim with deep chocolate eyes, neutral yet kind.

"Thank you for saving me, Captain." The words travel from those lips with little inflection, but they are like music to Jim's ears. 

"I didn't. . . didn't really do anything," Jim states weakly, staring down at his feet, one still slippered. A slight blush starts to creep across his cheeks for no reason he can understand, other than being praised makes him feel happy. 

"Nonsense, you provided a distraction. Without such I would not have been able to compose myself enough to return an attack on the augment," the other man rebukes, and retrieves the slipper for Jim. "I am in your debt."

"You don't really owe me anything, Spock. You're my friend." Even though he has only had the nutcracker a short while, and the fact that the other is now a fully grown man doesn't make the statement any less true. The dark haired man remains neutral faced, but those features are comforting, not ominous.

"I shall take you to my kingdom now, if that will suffice as recompense, Captain?" Spock asks, and the boy can't help but snort through his nose. The way that he talks is so formal, that it seems slightly strange, but still familiar to him. "There is a grand celebration happening on my home world, which if I am not mistaken, you might find enjoyment in."

Jim can't help but feel excited at the thought. He knows that he should go back to sleep, that his mother and father wouldn't want him staying up so late let alone running off with toys that have magically become alive, but he can barely contain his excitement as he nods to the other man. 

Spock holds out a delicate gloved hand to the young blonde, and without hesitation, Jim grabs it. Even with the thin layer of material between their fingers the hand is warm and calming. Just the sensation is enough to make Jim feel like this is right where he should be.

He is turned around and to his great surprise there is a giant shaggy beast in front of him. It almost resembles a giant teddy bear, but with long fangs. The beast seems tame, and despite its fearsome appearance, Jim reaches out his free hand to brush along its thick fur. The beast makes a rumbling noise deep in its chest that the blonde can only assume is akin to a cat's purr. When he looks up, Spock is looking down at him, face still as impassive as ever, but there is a light in his eyes that is full of appreciation.

"This is I-Chaya. He will take us to Vulcan." The word seems familiar, but Jim is not sure if he has ever been to Vulcan. Before he knows it, he is being lifted onto the creature's large back, and the other man swings up behind him. No sooner has he settled against Spock's chest, but I-Chaya leaps into action. Somehow, they are now racing through the house doors, across the snow covered ground and then, strangely enough, through the stars. 

It's very warm against Spock's chest, and Jim can't help but snuggle against him lulled to sleep by the twinkling of space around them.

*****

As Jim awakens he feels different, larger. He realizes his size and mind have returned to that of an adult. Still, Jim is warm all over. He feels safe, loved. Slowly, his eyelids flutter open, and he realizes he is being carried, Spock’s arms strong around him. All around him is amazing. Snow covers the ground, and the trees, everything sparkles with it. I-Chaya follows faithfully at his side.

 _Vulcan is a desert planet._ Something nags at the back of his mind, but he shakes his head, paying it no heed. Everything is just so beautiful that he can't help but enjoy it all. They pass others like Spock, the same bowl cuts and pointed ears- Vulcans, he reminds himself. Each are bundled up and nod to Spock with a respectful amount of deference. Jim is surprised that while only wearing a sleep shirt and pajama bottoms, doesn't feel cold at all.

Spock continues to make his way to a large home, mansion-like in its size and elegance. He tread up the steps lightly, careful of the precious cargo in his arms.

They enter the home and Jim gasps in amazement at the scene before him. A giant evergreen tree stands in the middle of the room bedecked with twinkling lights and ornaments of all sizes. The tree is potted, still alive, like nothing that he has ever seen before, but he likes the idea. I-Chaya pads over next to an elaborate chair that is all curved angles and buttons by the tree and settles next to it, head resting on his paws.

Jim looks up at Spock, to find the other man staring down at him. Glittery snowflakes fall serenely from the ceiling, lightly coating the surfaces before disappearing without a trace. "We have arrived, Jim."

Gently, the Vulcan sets him down, and Jim looks around. There are other people milling about the room, coming over towards them. There is a moment where he feels concerned, but all of them are smiling.

"Now where in the Sam Hill have you been?" A dark haired man with a slight Southern twang steps forward, arms crossed. He looks slightly grumpy, but Jim can tell that he is a good man.

"I was on Earth, Doctor. Under no logical means that I can explain, somehow I was transformed into a wooden doll, upon which I met our young captain at his family's home during their yuletide festivities. When the celebration ceased, I found myself alone in their den, with strange noises coming from the hall. Upon further discovery, our nemesis had turned into a human rodent hybrid. In my hazed state, I was completely helpless. Khan attacked and would have ended me if not for the heroics of the young captain. He used his footwear as enough of a diversion for me to regain my strength and round an attack on the augment. With him dispatched, I-Chaya and I brought the Captain here, for his victory celebration."

The Doctor rolls his eyes at Spock's long explanation, but everyone else seems enthralled by the tale. All eyes turn to Jim. Many of these people seem familiar to him. The Vulcan guides him over to the chair, which he sits up in. Something about the chair feels incredibly right, as if he had sat in it a hundred times, and marveled at all the buttons. Spock stands to his right, watchful and hands clasp behind his back. 

"Aren't you going to sit down, Spock?" he asks, but feels a little foolish as there are no other chairs near him. The other people have already settled on the sides of the room, chatting amongst themselves.

Spock quirks an eyebrow at him, "I am right where I belong, Jim." A warmth seems to cover him with that gaze, like a hug or being tucked into bed at night, and the blonde smiles up at the Vulcan. "Are you ready for the entertainment?" Spock asks.

There is still so much that Jim wants to ask about and explore in this place, but he is interested by what the entertainment actually is. He nods, and the Vulcan raises his hand. Music fills the hall and Klingons dance into the room dressed in decorative armor in the color of bloodwine. Their dance is fierce like a battle and Jim can’t take his eyes from them though he has a slightly apprehensive feeling as he watches. Next come the Romulans, decked in the striking brilliant blue of Romulan ale with garb of tweeds. Their dance is structured and militaristic, every move clearly well planned although every bit as passionate as the Klingons. Again, Jim feels entertained but almost ill at ease. He is glad when they have gone and blinks as the Vulcans around him now seem to be dressed in robes the color of spiced tea. Their dance seems far less passionate as the others and far more filled with logic and tactic although it is much more peaceful and soothing, so much so that Jim almost falls asleep. He is awoken from his slight daze by soft fingers caressing his own as he feels an almost electric tingle shoot through his body. His eyes once again meet his Spock’s as he finds himself gently pulled onto the dance floor by the other man. 

Spock holds him close, swinging him around the dance floor, gait structured and refined, but more sensual than the Vulcan's dance. Jim can't help but swallow, staring up into those eyes as he is twirled and supported by strong hands. A part of him wonders why he is not leading, but under the Vulcan's sure gaze, he feels perfectly at ease, letting himself slip deeper and deeper into the music. Colors swirl, faces blur around him, and it feels as if he is almost drowning in the chocolate of the other man's eyes. That face inches closer. 

Petal soft lips brush around his with a tentative grace as the music crescendos into the final notes. Jim feels breathless, like he has wings, like he and Spock are connected by more than just their mouths. Spock strokes two fingers down his cheek, a calm and loving feeling. The blonde feels weightless, wanted and loved.

He drifts away, buoyant in the cocoon of Spock's embrace, as snow gently falls.

*****

"I told you, you damn hobgoblin, the ornaments go on the tree!"

Jim blinks open his eyes in confusion to the bright lights of the Enterprises' Med Bay. He is laying in one of the beds, and to his relief sees the other men from the away mission in beds as well, all breathing normally, but with soft smiles on their faces. It takes only a moment to realize it was all a dream.

"But they will weigh down the branches and stunt them, doctor." Spock states mildly, and the blonde can hear the doctor seething in the waiting area. Quietly he slips out of bed for a closer look.

"Dammit man! You already made me get a real tree so we can plant it afterwards! What more do you want?" Bones lets out an exasperated sigh, and Jim peeks around the corner in time to see Spock's eyebrow raise as if the doctor has asked the most ridiculous question in the world.

"I should hope that the real tree will end up unscathed and in perfect condition when we give it over to Mr. Sulu for caretaking." The Vulcan states, as if his answer was entirely obvious. Jim almost laughs aloud, but inhales sharply at the beautiful sight around him. His ship, or at least the medical area's waiting room has been transformed into a small winter wonderland, with festive garlands being hung, and a short squatty tree enrobed in lights in the corner. Spock is looking at the decidedly not Terran tree as if something is not quite right.

"What do you even know about decking the halls anyway?" McCoy grumbles, and tosses an ornament at Spock before he sets back to the task of hanging the garlands. Jim blinks in confusion at the two men, a smile tugging at his lips at the completely baffled look on Spock's face as he stares at a shiny glass ornament, as if trying to decipher its true purpose, before the Vulcan starts mulling over the most logical place to hang the ornament.

In this moment, Jim doesn't need his dream or hallucination or whatever it was. He doesn't need his father and mother and a childhood he should have had. He doesn't need dancing Klingons or giant flying bears with six inch fangs. He just needs his best friend, his prince, his Spock. He and the crew of the Enterprise are the only family that he will ever need.

"Captain, you are awake." Spock states, and lowers the ornament. Jim nods back, walking into the room, unable to trust his voice. All he can feel is himself in Spock's arms, gently falling snow, and an affection for the other man that before this had always thought was nothing more than friendship. It must show on his face, because Spock stares quizzically at him. "Are you alright Jim?"

The blonde smiles, reaching out to cup the other man's hand in his own, the glass orb trembling between their fingers. Warmth radiates between them. Spock tenses slightly at the connection between their fingertips, but doesn't move, relaxing into the touch. Finally, amidst tinsel, garlands and an alien tree, Jim Kirk has found his family.

"Yes," Jim murmurs, looking deep into Spock's eyes. "Everything is perfect. I'm right where I belong."


End file.
